Convenience
by SouthParkFanfiction112
Summary: Pete just wants food and sleep. And maybe a few other things. A PetexStan one-shot. PWP. T for curse words.


**I really didn't mean to take so long between posting but life kind of came up and I just about forgot I was supposed to be writing. I got sucked up into the Merlin fandom and well that place is just a black hole. But anyways, here's a quick thing from another prompt. Its very PWP and to be honest I had no idea where I was taking it at the end. But I hope you enjoy it anyways and let me know what you think. Hopefully I can post some more soon.**

* * *

It was only when the sunlight started to seep in through the crack in his curtains that Pete registered just how late it was, or early technically. For a moment, he wondered why the curtains weren't quite shut all the way before a long yawn overcame him. Rubbing at his tired eyes with his palms, Pete dragged himself out of his bed. He blinked hard several times trying to return some moisture to his eyeballs.

To be fair, he hadn't actually planned to stay up all night, but here he was three horror movies and a _Dexter_ binge later. Not that Pete really minded, he'd always been a night owl after all. And with it being a Saturday, there wasn't anything to keep him from sleeping the day away. He took a deep breath and felt his spine pop with the movement. His entire body was stiff and, as he tried to stretch some life back into his limbs, he felt his stomach growl and rumble viciously, and Pete realized he was actually starving. "Fuck," he sighed lightly.

He took one quick look around the room and frowned at all the empty wrappers and containers scattered around. He never even noticed he'd finished all the snacks.

Pete slipped on his sneakers then picked up the last soda can he'd been drinking. He downed the rest of the now flat and no longer cold beverage before tossing the can aside and grabbing his keys. He would worry about the mess later. Right now all Pete wanted was food and sleep. Knowing his kitchen was mostly empty, he could spare a trip to the shop that sat at the corner of his street.

Blueberry, banana, or chocolate? Pete started at the muffins and other assorted pastries trying to decided which to buy. The fresh cup of coffee already warming his hand as he stood there. He was so focused on his decision, he didn't notice when someone else entered the small, nearly deserted, store. He just about jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke beside him.

"Can't ever go wrong with chocolate."

Pete turned slightly to find the source of the voice only to be met with a rather distracting smile. He stared for a few seconds past socially acceptable before his sense returned. "Marsh." He greeted as he turned his attention back to the rack of processed pastries.

"Red." Stan answered, grin still stubbornly in place. And Pete resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was never fond of that nickname. He has a real name after all, not that anyone ever bothered to learn it.

"Out for a run?" Pete asked conversationally. Judging from his outfit, the slight unevenness of breathing and the glistening of his skin, it seemed an obvious deduction.

"Oh. Um, yeah." Stan spoke sounding almost sheepish. "I like to run on Saturdays, especially before the town wakes. Plus, coach always says 'The best athletes are made during off season.' "

Pete picked up a chocolate muffin before turning to Stan, actually looking at him for the first time since he'd walked into the store. "How fundamental." He drawled in his usually monotone.

"Yeah." Stan chuckled awkwardly. "I, um, just stopped in for a water." But as he said this, Stan's gaze drifted off towards the pastries as if he was weighing the decision to have one. For a moment Pete wondered if Stan was on some sort of special diet, but then Stan was speaking again, his gaze still on the doughy goods, drawing Pete's focus out of his thoughts. "I was surprised to see you here. Never would have pegged you for an early bird."

Although, Pete was listening to Stan speak, he was more focused on the droplet of sweat, attached to his cheek, that was suddenly more interesting. Pete's eyes followed the drop's journey as it slid tauntingly down the slick skin of neck, over a tempting collarbone, and disappeared into Stan's shirt. Pete swallowed as his mouth suddenly felt dry. Remembering the hot coffee in his hand, he took a sip.

He shrugged, in his best attempt at casual, when Stan settled his gaze back on Pete after his prolonged silence. And then, he didn't know why, maybe he wasn't quite ready to end the conversation but he moved to walk past Stan and made his way to the refrigerators, where the drinks were stored, speaking as he did so. "Late night. Early morning. Time is relative." It was a noncommittal almost senseless response, but to Pete's surprise, he heard laughter as Stan followed close behind him. He suppressed a smile as the sound sent goosebumps all over his skin. Stopping as he reached his destination, Pete watched Stan move toward the waters.

"Well, judging from the bags under your eyes I'd definitely say late night." Stan grinned as he pulled a bottle from the fridge and drank eagerly. "You look rather debauched."

And Pete became vaguely aware of the real messes he must look. He would have been offended by the implication except that it was the way Stan said it and the look in his eyes that, instead, sent a wave of heat flooding over Pete. And then Stan flushed a brilliant shade of red as if the thought had left his mouth before he could process that he was even speaking. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Pete moved to walk over to the register. Stan following close behind.

Neither said another word, the conversation now seemingly over, as they paid for their respective items. Pete wasn't even sure what could be said anymore. But Stan was still close behind as Pete pushed through the exit. When they were both outside Pete finally spoke again. "Here, hold this." He commanded, practically shove his coffee cup at Stan.

"Oh! Uh, sure. Okay." Stan scrambled for the cup, obviously caught off guard by the sudden order.

Packaged muffin still in hand, Pete reached into his pocket with his free hand and dug out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips then dove into his pocket once more in search of his lighter. Once the sweet relief of smoke filled his lungs, Pete was grateful it took the edge off. He took his cup back from Stan, who had just been watching him the whole time. "Thanks." He muttered around the stick between his lips.

"No, problem." Stan grinned. "Um..." He began but hesitated.

Pete watched him expectantly as Stan seem to debate his next words. "I'll see you at school, Pete." Was what he said in the end. But then Stan flashed him that brilliant grin again. The grin that always seemed to make Pete lose his thoughts.

" Yeah." Was all Pete could manage as he watched Stan put his ear buds in place and turn around, taking off. And if Pete stayed a few moments to watch the moving figure disappear into the distance, well, no one was around to say anything. Not that he cared, really. And if he decides to binge watch Netflix next weekend, well, this store is always a convenient location for snacks.


End file.
